The sulphurous smoke hangs o’er them like a pall,
While reeling round they struggle, strike and fall.
Foremost of all, conspicuous, Gilbert stood,
His whirling sabre dripping red with blood;
Gleamed his gray eye, his lordly brow was bare,
In tangled masses fell his raven hair,
Like weeds they fall where’er his weapon swept,
Still round his form a vacant ring he kept,
Where his blade gleams they sink with quivering cry,
And still through all one plume attracts his eye.